


Broken Down

by silver_etoile



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Coming Out, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 15:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18123386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_etoile/pseuds/silver_etoile
Summary: When Elia is accidentally outed to his dad, there's only one place he can think to go and he's not quite sure how to explain the shirtless picture of Filippo on his phone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From a request on tumblr, and then 2 more for follow-ups.

_Are you at home?_

Martino grabbed his phone from the table, frowning at Elia’s text, unusually short and to the point.

_I’m at Nico’s_ , he sent back, glancing at Niccolò in the other chair at the kitchen table, text books spread out before them.

_Can I come over?_

Martino paused. It was a strange text to get from Elia, who usually only texted him directly to make sure there would be enough beer at a party or to collect on his weed payment.

“Elia wants to know if he can come over here,” he said finally, and Niccolò shrugged.

“We’re not doing anything.”

Martino wasn’t sure why Elia would want to come over to Niccolò’s, but he texted him the address anyway.

It was only a few minutes later that the buzzer rang and Niccolò got up to answer the door. Martino didn’t look up until he heard Niccolò return, followed by a shuffling pair of feet, and he glanced up, immediately concerned at Elia’s face, his eyes red, a bruise forming on his cheek.

“What happened?” he asked, rising from his chair and following as Niccolò herded Elia to the living room, sitting him down on the couch.

Elia let out a heavy breath and Martino sat down next to him. He’d never seen Elia like this before and it scared him. Niccolò went to get him a glass of water.

Elia took the glass Nico handed him but didn’t drink it. “My dad saw a message on my phone from Filippo.”

Martino frowned, glancing at Niccolò, who returned it, confused.

“So?”

Clutching the glass, Elia looked up finally, as though wishing he didn’t have to say whatever was next. “It was a shirtless pic.”

A million questions ran through Martino’s mind, and he knew Niccolò was thinking the same from the way his eyebrows went up.

“Why is Filo sending you shirtless pictures?” Martino asked carefully, trying to be sensitive. Elia had never mentioned anything about Filippo, and he knew that wasn’t the point right now with Elia sitting broken on the couch beside him, but he had to ask.

“We’ve been kind of hooking up,” Elia admitted, looking between them as though searching for some kind of judgment, some kind of annoyance or disbelief.

“So, you’re…” Marti said slowly, trailing away with a glance at Niccolò.

“Hooking up with Filo,” Niccolò finished for him, and Elia shook his head.

“I think I’m bi, but it doesn’t matter because my dad knows.”

Right. It wasn’t important that Elia hadn’t told them about Filippo or that Elia might be bisexual. Sliding a hand to his shoulder, Martino wasn’t sure what to say. Niccolò moved over to sit on the coffee table in front of Elia.

“What did he do?”

Elia’s eyes flicked upward and his mouth twisted. “He started yelling about how gay people were unnatural and against God and talking about sending me off to private school in England or something. And then he, well.” He gestured at his face, the bruise. “He told me to get out.”

“What about your mom?” Martino asked, anger buzzing under the surface of his skin. He knew Elia’s parents were divorced, so there might be a chance it wouldn’t be too bad.

Elia almost smiled, as though the thought was comical. “I’m sure he’ll tell her, but I doubt she’ll be as cool about it as your mom was.”

“You can stay here,” Niccolò offered immediately, placing a hand on Elia’s knee, and Martino felt his heart swell.

“You can stay with me too,” Martino said, nodding. “My mom loves to take in strays.”

Elia rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t quite smiling, and Martino didn’t expect him to. He’d been so terrified to tell his mom, and she had accepted him completely. He couldn’t even imagine what he would have done if she hadn’t.

“It’s okay, you know,” Martino said finally, watching Elia stare at his hands. “Being bi or gay or whatever. It doesn’t mean you’re broken.”

“I know,” Elia agreed, looking at Martino finally. “I didn’t tell you guys about Filo because it wasn’t a big deal, not because I thought you would care that I’m sometimes into guys.”  
Martino nodded, and Niccolò smiled.

“You tell us about every girl you even look at, but not about Filippo?” Nico asked with a tiny smile. “Does that mean you like him?”

Elia paused for a second, thinking. “I guess if I didn’t, I could have just told my dad it was a wrong number.” He set the glass of water down finally. “But I didn’t.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Martino assured him, and Niccolò nodded along. “You’ve got us.”

Elia glanced between them, a doubtful smile appearing on his face. “Oh God. You two were a mess.”

Niccolò laughed, patting Elia’s knee. “Now we’re your mess, Eli.”

Elia groaned, but later on, with Niccolò attempting to cook dinner (Martino begged him not to), he nodded at Martino.

“Thanks,” he said as Martino sat on the couch with him, the television playing in the background.

Martino smiled, nodding back. “You’re our mess now, Elia, and we’re going to keep you together.”

Elia merely rolled his eyes, but Martino thought he caught the barest hint of a smile, and that was enough for now.


	2. Chapter 2

Elia turned his phone over in his hands as he sat on Niccolò’s couch, not really watching the TV, not really listening to Martino and Nico in the kitchen making dinner. He felt numb, as if his life was happening to someone else.

Filippo’s last messages lingered on his phone, increasingly concerned when he hadn’t replied to the shirtless selfie. Elia didn’t know what to tell him, didn’t know how to explain this. He could barely tell Martino and Niccolò.

All Elia had managed to text back was that he’d had a fight with his dad and had gone to Nico’s house. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the whole truth either.

As Elia sat on the couch, lost in his own thoughts, trying not to think about what he was supposed to do next, where he was supposed to go, how he was supposed to get through this, the door buzzer rang and Niccolò came out from the kitchen. He tossed a glance to Elia, a reassuring smile that Elia didn’t really feel, tucking his phone away as Nico opened the door.

“Filo,” Niccolò said, and Elia’s head shot up, craning to look down the hall to the front door.

“Elia said he was here,” he heard Filippo say, and he realized as Filippo came down the hall, turning to find him on the couch, that Filippo didn’t know that both Martino and Niccolò knew. They’d agreed not to tell anyone for a while, so why would Filippo show up here unannounced?

“Eli,” Filippo said as he caught sight of him, and Elia dropped his gaze, somehow embarrassed. He didn’t want Filippo to see him like this, the bruise forming under his eye, red and purple. He didn’t want Filippo to know how weak he was. “Your beautiful face.”

Pushing himself up, Elia took a deep breath, steadying the emotions welling up inside him. “What are you doing here?” He nodded at Niccolò as he said it, watching Filippo pause a second, as though considering the question.

“I can read between the lines,” Filippo replied, stepping over to the couch, ignoring Martino emerging from the kitchen. “And from the look of this bruise, I’d say it was more than a regular fight.”

Elia flinched as Filippo’s thumb brushed over his cheek, the twinge of pain. He’d been hit before, but this one seemed to hurt much worse than any other.

“Filo,” he started to say, to explain something or make an excuse about how this wasn’t a big deal somehow, but Filippo didn’t let him, pulling him into a tight hug instead.

Elia couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, not because of Filippo’s arms around him, not because his chest was pressed to Filo’s. He couldn’t breathe as he felt the warmth of Filippo enveloping him, the soft scent of his lemon soap lingering on his skin, and Elia let out a shaky breath as he felt the first prick of tears in his eyes.

He hadn’t cried all day, not when his dad was yelling at him, not when he’d threatened to send him away, not when he’d slammed the door behind him. He hadn’t felt anything on the way to Nico’s or even with Martino sitting next to him, telling him things would be okay.

But now he couldn’t stop the tears from gathering in his eyes, and he raised his arms, winding around Filippo’s waist as he buried his face in Filo’s shoulder.

He didn’t care that Martino and Niccolò were probably watching. No one was speaking, and Elia tried to concentrate on Filippo’s breathing, slow and steady, trying to match it as the weight of the day pressed down on him.

It seemed like an age until Filippo moved back, brushing away the wetness at the corners of Elia’s eyes, eyes darting over his face as though checking that he was okay. Elia wasn’t quite sure what the feeling was welling up inside him, maybe gratefulness, maybe something else. He and Filo hadn’t exactly defined what they were doing. Hooking up, sure, but Elia wasn’t sure beyond that. 

“What happened?” Filippo asked, and Elia looked away. 

Martino and Niccolò stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, watching silently. Martino nodded reassuringly when Elia met his gaze.

Elia took a breath, looking back at Filippo’s concerned face. “My dad saw that picture you sent.”

Filippo’s face fell as understanding flitted across it. “Shit. Elia, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Elia assured him. He should have been more careful with his phone, not left it lying around where his dad could see it. “He would have found out eventually.”

Elia didn’t know if that was true since he hadn’t planned on telling his dad about Filippo, about liking guys at all, but he didn’t want Filippo to think he was responsible for any of this.

Filippo sighed, hands coming to Elia’s neck. “Do you need somewhere to stay? You can always stay with me.”

Elia hadn’t expected that, and he felt a smile appear. “Thanks, but I’m gonna stay with Marti,” he said, and Filippo nodded.

“Probably a better idea. Don’t want you to fail all your classes.”

Elia couldn’t quite laugh, but he nodded as Filippo tilted his face up. Something was changing, he could feel it, between them, but he wasn’t sure what. It felt different, though, as Filippo leaned in and kissed him, in front of Martino, in front of Niccolò, like he didn’t care at all.

“You’re gonna call me if you need anything,” Filippo said when he pulled away, and Elia felt himself nodding, letting out a breath, feeling better for the first time in hours.

“So, are you staying for dinner?” Niccolò asked a minute later, glancing at Martino. “I made plenty.”

“I supervised,” Martino assured them, and Filippo laughed, reaching for Elia’s hand and squeezing gently.

It was still surprising, something new, but Elia liked it. It made him feel safe somehow. 

“I’ll stay,” Filippo said, smiling when Elia met his gaze. He’d stay.


	3. Chapter 3

“You staying over?” Filippo asked, and Elia blinked away from the television screen where he was curled up on the end of the couch. Filippo was too far away, scrolling through Instagram, and he met Elia’s eyes when Elia paused.

“It’s not like I have anyone to tell me I can’t,” he said, and it was supposed to be a joke, but he felt the immediate sting of tears as he said it. Sighing, he looked away from Filippo’s frown.

It had been a week. A week since he’d last seen his dad, a week since he’d given Martino a key so he could sneak in and pack up some clothes, his laptop, textbooks, whatever he could find in Elia’s room and bring it home. Well, home to Martino’s anyway. There had been no phone calls, no texts from his dad or his mom, not even to check if he was still alive. For all they knew, he could be dead in a ditch somewhere. For all they cared.

Elia tried not to think about it, about the gaping hole where his heart had used to be. Far more pressing than if his parents would ever accept him again was the question of what he was doing here. Here, with Filo, on a Monday night, watching some shitty American TV show, and not making out. Usually, when Filippo invited Elia over, it was to do more than sit a foot apart on the couch and watch TV.

“Eli,” Filippo said after a minute, scooting over until his thigh was pressed to Elia’s, until he was close enough to wrap his arms around him, and Elia didn’t fight it, sinking into his chest and sighing. He didn’t know what was was going on, with anything. Filo, his parents, his life. Everything was spiraling out of control.

Before this, before last week, Elia had thought things were going pretty well with Filippo. They hadn’t defined anything, hadn’t really talked about what they were doing. Flirting. They’d been flirting, hooking up occasionally, keeping things quiet from their friends.

So much for that.

Now, Elia didn’t know what was going on, what they were doing. He felt like everything was minutely out of place.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Elia said because he knew Filippo was waiting for him to say something as they sat there. Filippo’s chest was warm and firm, and Elia could feel each breath he took, calming somehow.

Filo’s fingers slid through his hair, and Elia felt his exhale against his neck.

At length, Filippo pulled back, tilting his head to the side, a soft smile there. “Did I ever tell you how I came out to my parents?”

Elia shook his head. Before last week, the most he and Filippo had talked about was Filippo making fun of his clothes and Elia objectifying Filippo’s ass.

Settling in next to him, Filippo set his feet on the coffee table, a hand resting on the back of Elia’s neck. Before this, Elia hadn’t even bothered to take in Filippo’s apartment, always heading straight for the bedroom any time he came over. He’d never asked about Eleonora, if she was around, where his parents were, why there was a giant poster of Titanic over the TV.

“I was sixteen,” Filippo said finally. “And you’ve met me. You know it’s pretty obvious, but my parents, I think they didn’t want to see it. But they don’t want to see a lot of things. They prefer to be blissfully ignorant of problems they might have to deal with. So when I told them, when I made them deal with it, they didn’t really do much.”

Elia wished his dad had been like that.

Filippo’s fingers brushed over the curls at the back of his neck, idle, not really paying attention.

“I think that hurt more, actually,” Filippo went on after a minute, and Elia frowned. How could that be? He didn’t think he’d ever forget the flash of anger in his dad’s eyes, the words he’d barked at Elia burned into his brain. “The fact that they didn’t even care, one way or the other.”

“You’d rather they kick you out?”

Filippo met Elia’s eyes with a sad smile. “You see this apartment? This apartment is so they don’t have to deal with us, me or Ele. This apartment is so they can still feel like they support their children, but really it’s out of sight, out of mind.”

Elia didn’t know what to say, biting his lip instead. He’d never really thought about Filippo’s parents.

“My point is, there are a lot of shitty people in this world, shitty in different ways, but the nice thing about you and me is that we get a second chance. You don’t get to choose your family, but do get to choose your friends, your partners, the people you surround yourself with. And I think you’ve got a great group.”

It was true, Elia had to admit. Between Gio and Martino, Nico and Luca, Elia had a great group of friends.

“What about you?” he asked, gazing at Filippo, not inching closer yet. They hadn’t discussed it, what they were, where they were going. Elia hadn’t wanted to ask. Before, he hadn’t really cared, but now, now it felt like he needed to know. “Who are you in this group?”

Filippo’s eyebrows went up and he smiled after a second, thinking. “I’m clearly the wise sage, making sure all of you make it through life safely.”

“I meant with me,” Elia said slowly.

“You?” Filippo repeated, the tips of his fingers resting on the back of Elia’s neck as he paused.

Elia hated to ask, to be so blatantly needy, but he needed some clarification. “I’m just confused, I guess.” He frowned. “Before last week, it was just hooking up, right? But now… I don’t know, it feels different?”

This week had been Filippo calling instead of texting, inviting Elia over to do his homework at his apartment instead of offering to blow him. Was Filippo only doing it because he felt bad? Because his picture had been the thing to start all this? Elia had told him it wasn’t. And he didn’t want Filippo to feel like he had to take care of him, like they were forced to be together now because of everything.

“If you’re doing this because you feel guilty,” Elia said, looking away from Filippo, to the poster behind the TV. The edges were curling, as if it had been in that spot for years, Leonardo DiCaprio’s face fading where the sunlight hit it during the day. “Or because you think I need someone to take care of me, I don’t. I can handle this on my own, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck with me.”

He was already a burden on Martino’s mom, sleeping on their couch, his belongings already making their way to every corner of the apartment no matter how hard he tried to keep things organized, no matter how much Martino assured him it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to be a burden on Filo too.

He was surprised, then, when Filo took his face in both hands, forcing Elia to meet his gaze.

“Eli,” he said with a sigh, shaking his head. “Do you know why I like you?”

Elia frowned. “Because I give good head?”

Filippo laughed, running his tongue over his lip ring. “Because you’re always honest. You’re enthusiastic. You’re funny. You have that cute little earring. And even though you’re young and confused and dumb sometimes, I always look forward to seeing you.”

Elia’s eyes flicked to Filippo’s, unsure. “You do?”

Filippo nodded, fingers smoothing over Eli’s cheeks. “The truth is I’m not stuck with you. You’re stuck with me.”

A weight came off Elia’s shoulders as he exhaled slowly, catching Filippo’s smile.

“Is that so?” he managed to ask around the lump in his throat as Filippo laughed and pulled him into a hug, pressing a kiss to Elia’s neck.

“Yes, that’s so,” he said, kissing his cheek as he pulled back to nuzzle into his mouth, and Elia parted his lips as Filippo kissed him slowly, thumbs caressing his jaw, warm and soft at the same time. Safe. “So are you staying over?” he asked for the second time as the kiss broke.

Elia found himself nodding against Filippo’s forehead. “Okay,” he agreed, unable to stop his laugh as Filippo hauled him into his lap and kissed him again, his heart beating faster this time.

“Okay,” Filippo echoed, smiling up at Elia and brushing his hair aside. “Now about that claim you give good head…”

Grinning, Elia shook his head, leaning into Filo’s mouth. “I can prove it,” he offered, tongue sweeping into Filippo’s mouth as Filippo smiled. At least, he thought as his arms slid over Filippo’s shoulders and he leaned in against him, at least he had his friends, and now, he had Filo too, really had him, and Elia thought maybe that was enough. Maybe it was all he needed after all.


End file.
